aurea mediocritas
by scarlet lethality
Summary: didn't you know that you have to look before you fall?—ginny & pansy / qlfc round 1


**team:** tutshill tornadoes

 **position:** seeker

 **prompt:** write a pairing you have never written before

 **a/n:** this is abysmally late, but thank you to my betas: victoria (heads not hearts), adi (potahtopotato) and sienna (empyreal tempest) for their help!

* * *

 _ **aurea mediocritas**_

 **[the golden mean between two sinful extremes]**

 _word count: 1455_

* * *

The first time Pansy Parkinson sees Ginevra Weasley, really _sees_ her, is in her sixth year.

She's sitting with Draco and his little cronies in the Great Hall, playing with her food listlessly—everything seems so _bland_ nowadays—when a whirlwind of red hair and black robes passes by to join the Gryffindor table. Ginny seems to be in a hurry, but stops and curses as she drops a textbook near the Slytherin table. Casting furtive glances at their group, she slowly picks it up, her back stiffening like she's preparing for a fight.

Draco, never resisting a chance to sneer at one of _them,_ teases her—something along the lines of She-Weasel, stuff like that—it's gotten kind of old, really. But Pansy plays the part of a simpering fool, giggling mindlessly at Draco's poor jokes.

 _It's what you have to do._

Weasley's eyes flash and she stiffens. Her retort is as sharp as needles and hits its mark precisely. Draco's mouth twists and he moves to draw his wand. Ginny does the same, but Goody-Two-Shoes Granger comes right in time to stop the storm that's brewing.

As she's dragged back to the Gryffindor table, Weasley throws a hateful glance towards the Slytherin table, and Pansy is the one who catches her eye.

They stare for a few moments, not really knowing why. Pansy hates to break Weasley's stare—lest she should think of Pansy as a coward.

 _You_ are _a coward. You know that, don't you?_

The stalemate continues for a few moments before Weasley looks away. Pansy allows herself a small smile before returning to her tasteless food. Stifling a sigh, she dons her brightest smile as she turns towards Draco again, pretending to pay attention to his talk.

Instead of listening to Draco's sneering, sharp comments, Pansy thinks of the summer, of the Dark Lord's ultimatum. The Parkinsons had been a fickle family—not openly showing their support towards him, nor siding with Dumbledore. They'd remained neutral, save an occasional Death Eater cousin. Although they'd survived the first war, it seemed that their silence had cost them their freedom in the second. Her father had been summoned to meet the Dark Lord and had come out with an angry red brand on his left arm.

And unless Pansy wanted to face certain death, she was next.

She has to side with the Dark Lord, be in the Malfoys' good books, she knows. But she can't help but wish, just for one moment, that she can be herself again—that she can forget her 'responsibilities' and run far away from the war.

Pansy feels as though she's at an impasse, an impossible crossroad where every path leads to destruction.

 _This is how your life will be. You must learn to survive._

* * *

The first time Pansy talks to her is after Slughorn's stupid Christmas Party.

She comes to the party as Blaise's plus one but loses him two minutes later—probably because he's pining after that Ravenclaw girl who will never give him a second thought. It's ridiculous, really—he's fancied her for ages, but Pansy isn't sure if the girl knows Zabini exists.

After all, he's a _Slytherin._

Pansy understands Zabini, she really does, but as she slips out of the party, in her pretty dress and nice makeup, she blames him for the chill of abandonment and loneliness that finds her way back to her heart.

She's staring out of a window, at the cold Scottish landscape, when she hears _her_ voice.

"You know, I never thought you were one for quiet contemplation." Her voice is slightly gruff, yet sweet, an odd combination. _It suits her._

Pansy bristles at the comment. "Like you know _anything_ about me. Typical Gryffindor, stereotyping a Slytherin without a second thought." She knows she's being a hypocrite, but Pansy feels an odd pleasure in taking down Ginny Weasley.

Ginny's never one to keep quiet. Folding her arms, she raises an eyebrow. "And typical _Slytherin,_ jumping to the conclusion that someone is stereotyping you."

"Do you blame me?" asks Pansy. "This is what we do, Slytherins and Gryffindors. Stereotype. It's second nature for us."

Pansy knows that she should be drawing her wand out now, jinxing the Gryffindor without a second thought.

But she can't. She won't.

 _Something has changed._

"Maybe you expect me to apologise for that, but don't you think you deserve it? It's not like your hands are clean of blood." Weasley's eyes are dark gimlets in the moonlight. Pansy purses her lips and looks away.

"No, I don't expect an apology from anyone. That's too much to ask, given everything." Pansy feels terrible saying it, but mostly because it's _true._ Slytherins' hands are dripping red. And it's not like she's innocent.

Ginny hums, and that's the end of their conversation. She can hear the faint sound of waltz music from Slughorn's office, smell snow on the breeze and see elegantly tied red hair in the periphery. It's the most unexpected situation she's ever found herself in, and yet, she's at peace.

* * *

The first time Pansy kisses Ginny Weasley, she knows it's also her last.

They strike up the most unconventional friendship in the history of their time at Hogwarts, after Slughorn's party. They aren't the best of friends—they act like nemeses, really, and yet, Pansy never feels compelled to draw her wand around the redhead, and neither does she. They seem to meet at the oddest moments and Pansy won't lie and say that she hasn't orchestrated that at least _once._

"Sometimes, I wonder if this is a dream." Ginny says, in one such 'accidental' meeting.

"What is?" Pansy asks, looking at the girl curiously.

"Well, y'know, this, us, our friendship—whatever it is." She rests her chin on her palm, staring out of the window towards the frosty grounds. Her hair is loose, cascading down her back—a splash of intense colour against the greys of January, her breaths icy puffs in the freezing air and Pansy feels as though she's never seen anything so beautiful. "It seems so, so... _impossible_ , and sometimes I wonder if I should even be here."

Pansy feels as though she's been pricked with a sharp needle. "I believe that things happen for a reason. And knowing you wasn't a mistake—not exactly. I—I think it was a way to remind us that there are actual humans hiding behind the facades we put up in front of the world. And I'm not sure I can bring myself to regret meeting you, Ginny."

Ginny stiffens, and Pansy knows that she understands the significance of her words—she's never called her Ginny before. After a few moments, the Gryffindor relaxes again, and a familiar smile adorns her face. A look of understanding and acceptance lights up her eyes, and Pansy thinks that she's never loved anyone as much as Ginny Weasley at that moment.

The realisation hits her like a train—elation, heartbreak and apprehension bursting through her at the speed of light. She knows that falling in love with a Gryffindor, the _Weasley Girl,_ no less, spells only disaster and heartbreak for her. And what are the odds that Ginny has ever looked at her in any way except as an unconventional friend?

Given Pansy's morbid thoughts on the matter, it's no wonder she's surprised when Ginny presses her lips against hers.

Her lips are chapped, sweet and bitter, all at the same time. It doesn't last long, but in that small infinite moment, she feels like she's in heaven.

When Ginny pulls away, regret written all over her face, Pansy _knows._

 _This is the end of it all._

* * *

The last time Pansy sees Ginny, they are on opposite sides.

Pansy feels lost, afraid, cruel, angry, a stormy mixture of dark feelings which are threatening to escape her. Somehow, things have gotten infinitely worse between her sixth and seventh year, desperation crawling through her family and planting itself firmly in their roots.

It's that desperation she blames when she screams out Harry Potter's location for all the world to hear. The Great Hall is silent for a moment, before it descends into indignant chaos, McGonagall's voice clear over everybody else's.

As McGonagall coldly dismisses her and the rest of the Slytherins to the Hog's Head, she can almost hear everyone's thoughts now. _Cowards. Traitors. They're the Slytherins, what did you expect?_

But Pansy hardly cares, because she's staring at Ginny and the utter look of _hatred_ on her face.

That's the moment Pansy knows what _sorrow_ means.

Ginny turns to face Harry and the others, who are talking intently between themselves, fear and courage both evident in her beautiful eyes. Pansy tries to catch her eye again, but all she can see is the sadness, disappointment, anger and hatred etched on Ginny's face when Pansy betrayed Potter.

Sudden tears blur her vision as she turns to face her housemates.

 _You should've known that those stolen moments of glory weren't meant to be._

As Pansy heads into the dark halls leading to the Room of Requirement, knows that it's the last time she'll ever catch sight of Ginny Weasley.

 _Silly girl. Didn't you know that all this would only end in tragedy?_


End file.
